A mission, no a calling, to reach thou blessed beach. Depart distractions, and wasted wanderings, that your healing I may reach. At peace, and a sponge I am with you, for all you wisely teach. Drip your delights down my chin, like a ripe ol’ Georgia peach. An appreciation for all your congregants, even the blondes-a-bleach. Begone those city tentacles, I so boldly beseech. So my heart can devour all your spirit, ohh mighty beach.